Coming Home
by Miley E. Reign
Summary: (Captain America/OC Fic) Steve is attempting to settle down with his new wife, Jesse while trying to balance his superhero day job with his private life. Domestic, Hurt/Comfort, Shipper!Avengers, Protective!Steve, Aunty!Natasha (Eventual rating of 'M')
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: Hi! This story began as a cute little one-shot, but my friend wanted me to write more, so here it is! I hope that it's somewhat good. I'm a senior in high school, so expect updates weekly or biweekly, but they will be under 1,000 words I think, since I'm rather busy and I only have so many ideas. Please feel free to give me ideas in the review section or privately message me. I LOVE reviews, I've only got one so far but it made my day. Also, please note that I've read a few of the comics, so their might be little easter eggs for the comic fans, but you should be able to understand the story if you've seen the Marvel films. Thanks so much for reading and enjoy! ^-^**

Even though I haven't been drunk in over 70 years, my legs were wobbly and my feet dragged on the ground. My head hurt, my eyes stung and my hand shook slightly as I lifted it, key grasped in my fingers. I was dead tired.

I had been gone on a mission, one that lasted twice as long that I promised Jesse. Fury sent Natasha, Clint and I to Syria to help maintain the safety of the last few refugees fleeing from Hydra. Bruce later joined us when he came with Doctors Without Boarders. The days were long and the weeks were longer and the months lasted an eternity.

I was only able to talk to Jesse once a week on the communicator (She had explained to me that it is like the 'FaceTime' on my cellular phone she gave me for Christmas last year). But I wrote to her everyday before bed, something falling asleep at my desk and getting drool over the letter. Jesse wrote back whenever she wasn't working her own long hours at the hospital or taking care of Marvin, our three year old golden retriever.

It was dark out as our flight had been delayed as Clint had demanded at the last second to pick Laura up some spices to 'expand her variety of pregnancy cravings'. My heart let for joy at the sudden thought of Jesse's flat stomach, from working out with me, rounded to a baby bump and her cheeks plump and glowing from pregnancy. I smiled and looked down at my feet shyly. Alone outside of our front door of our modest little townhouse, I felt embarrassed. The moths swarming the porch light seemed to mock me with their high pitched buzzing, almost telling me how stupid I was being. "She's you're wife, Rogers. You're Captain Friggin America, you can have sex with her if you wanna." I shook my head, trying to get the unpleasant sound of Tony Stark's voice out of my mind.

I turned the key in the lock and slowly swung the door open. It creaked quietly and I heard the scratching of Marvin's claws on the wood floor approach. I shut the door behind me and kneeled down to pet him and shush him as he whined and tried to play with me. "Mom's asleep, bud. Don't wake her." Standing up now, with Marvin at my heels, I made my way through the kitchen and up the stairs.

Our wedding pictures lined the hallway and I stopped to smile at them. 'How did I get so lucky?' I thought. Marvin pushed through the door to our room and jumped up on our bed. I followed him.

Jesse was fast asleep. She was curled up on my side of the bed, hugging my pillow and wearing one of my tee shirts. She shifted in her sleep as Marvin laid down next to her. I walked up to the bed and kneeled next to it. In one fluid motion I tucked her hair behind her ear and kissed her cheek. She stirred, but her eyes remained closed. I bent down and took her hand in mine and kissed it, whispering "I love you," in her ear. She smiled and lifted her arms up to wrap around my neck. I stooped to hold her close to me. She shook against me. Jesse, my beloved wife of almost a year, was sobbing in my arms.

"Steve?" She whispered. I squeezed her closer.

"It's me, I'm here." I soothed. She pulled away and looked at me in the eyes. Tears were silently streaming down her cheeks. She cupped my face in her hands, smiled, and pulled me down for an impassioned kiss. I could taste the night time tea with a shot of nyquil to help her sleep. I felt a pang of guilt. She had trouble sleeping without me. I pulled away when the taste of her melted away into the salt of her tears. She rocked against me as I hugged her, her whole body trembling. I ran my hands under her, well, my, tee shirt, and massaged small circles at the base of her spine, my trick to relax her. She mirrored me slid her hands under my shirt and over my stomach and back, coming to rest on my sides, her left hand gliding over a new patch of skin grown by Bruce in his lab.

"What's this?" She asked in between sobs.

"Dr. Banner had to preform surgery-" Jesse looked up in concern. "Minor surgery. It's new skin. He said that you wouldn't be able to feel the difference." Jesse smiled softly and ran her hand over the small patch again.

"I can feel the difference."


	2. Chapter 1: In The Begining

**Author's Note: Hi again! So this chapter is where the narrative timeline plot actual story begins. It takes place about three years before the prologue. Jesse and Steve haven't met at this point, I just kinda wanted to try my hand at an 'action' chapter. It was fun to write and I hope it's fun to read as well. Again, PLEASE leave a review, even if you hate it. I will leave a review on this chapter when I'm done writing chapter two and then it will be just a day or two for me to edit and put it up here. I think that's how I'll let you know when to expect an update. Thanks so much for reading and enjoy! ^-^**

"BP is dropping fast, we have to get her moving," A nurse yelled over the uproar of beeps and the whirring of the gurney wheels on the laminate floor. I had just failed my mission. And an innocent child was going to die because I didn't do my job. And everything seemed to be going so smoothly…

It was a classic kidnapping. A security escort was paid off more than enough money for his brother to get chemotherapy, except we found the guard washed up a day later with a bullet hole in his head. She was the daughter of the Russian envoy to the United States, Anastasia Bulgian. The girl, Elizabeth, was a mere seven years old. And she was currently in the clutches of Hydra. The only way, Hydra claimed, to get her back alive was for Ambassador Bulgian to cece Russian involvement in their workings in Syria. What Hydra didn't seem to understand is that S. H. E. I. L. D. doesn't negotiate with terrorists.

Tony was able to trace his old arms 'buddies' whereabouts and the property they owned. After raiding all but one of 67 possible locations, we stood across from the place, an old half falling down warehouse, the Chicago River flowing in between us and the ambassador's daughter. I stood with Agent Romanov and Barton on either side of me. Clint had his arrow nocked and his arms were tense, ready to aim and fire. Nat had replaced her normal handguns with stun guns. Fury had warned of Hydra's goons using little Elizabeth as armor to stop impending bullets.

I lifted my arm silently to point out the cherry red glow of a cigarette. A figure had rounded the corner and was mocked up to be a punk sneaking out for a smoke. He had spiked up green hair and looked nothing a Hydra agent could look, except that he had a walkie talkie antenna poking out of his falling down jeans and that he was the only person we had seen at this location for the past hour, on top of S. H. E. I. L. D. locking down the area. The man had to have come from inside the warehouse. He had to be Hydra.

Clint lifted his bow and aimed. I barely heard the soft whoosh of the arrow before I saw the agent crumble and drop. We stayed still for a moment. Nothing. I pointed to the tiny canoe in front of us, bouncing up and down in the filthy water. Nat, like a wet cat, slinked down silently into the front and took up her paddle. I followed her lead. I gave Hawkeye a thumbs up and he nocked and aimed his grappling arrow.

The rest was a blur, it was the same as always, sneaking up around corners and taking out guards and goons. But then it all went wrong.

Clint had gotten Elizabeth and was on her way out with her slung over his shoulder. Nat was escorting them, her stun guns always drawn. I was following. But I felt a nagging feeling. This was too easy, Hydra always had something up their sleeve. Suddenly I heard Natasha yell "Grenade!" And jumped and pulled Clint down, covering him with her body. At the same instant, I had thrown my shield to cover up the detonator, in a hope to differ some of the explosion.

Nothing happened.

Looking back, I know now that Nat saved us. She was the first to figure out that the 'grenade' was a dummy, a hook for us to bite to.

"Go! Go! Go!" She ordered us. We moved quickly, just not quickly enough. The sniper's bullet was silent, but Clint's scream was the first to tell us Elizabeth had been shot. We all dived behind the concrete wall.

I had failed my mission.


	3. Chapter 2: Bombs and Banner

**Author's Note: So this chapter is my way of putting Jesse in the story as well as shoving puppy dog Bruce in it as well. It sucks. Enjoy! And as always, reviews give me life and I love them and please leave one! Thanks for reading!**

"Steve, you're crazy." Sam said for the umpteenth time. "Some one will recognize you, they always do, man."

I pulled my hoodie on and grimaced slightly. I walked to the front door of our apartment and grabbed my motorcycle keys.

"Steve," He warned again.

"Look," I said a bit too sharply. "This is my fault. It's my fault that that little kid has a bullet in her. I have to make sure she's okay."

Without another word I opened the door and left, shutting it in Sam's face.

After we had reached the rendezvous point with Elizabeth in tow, S. H. E. I. L. D. had treated her on site. I couldn't even tell where the bullet had hit the child, there was too much blood to tell. Before I could do anything the EMTs had taken her away.

Now she was in Washington. This way she could be under the highest surveillance S. H. E. I. L. D. had to offer as well as some of the best medical knowledge in the country. But, most importantly, she could be close to her mother.

I had reached the curb outside Sam and I's small apartment. I stuck my helmet on and rode downtown.

When I had reached the hospital, I quietly entered and headed to the secured wing where Elizabeth was staying.

Suddenly I stopped walking. The hospital was quiet and cold and sterile, all normal things for a hospital to be. But something was off. Something wasn't right. I could smell it in the air, literally I could. I caught a whiff of gunpowder.

Every muscle in my body tensed up, waiting for the explosion to hit me. I closed my eyes.

Instead of feeling the heat and hearing the sound of the pike bomb, I felt a small hand wrap around my wrist and heard a voice say "Come on!"

I opened my eyes to see the blur of a figure pulling me, then the smash of a window breaking, then the sound of the explosion, then falling and landing hard on the top of an ambulance.

I groaned in pain and rolled over to see a bloodied and battered figure in violet scrubs curling up into a ball. I stared at her for a moment, but I was shocked out of my awe when a second explosion rocked the building.

I snapped back into my training instincts. I stood up and scooped up the woman, thew her over my shoulder as gently as I could in the urgency of the situation allowed and jumped down to the engine hood to the ground.

I ran through back allies and side streets, to avoid being seen, until I reached the base of my fire escape. I clamored up the stairs and banged on the door.

"Sam!" I yelled. "Open the door!"

The door opened and a knife was pointed at my face.

"Were you followed?" He asked. I shook my head, out of breath. The door opened and I walked in, Sam bolting the door behind me. I rushed over to the couch and laid her down.

Sam smiled, and, almost letting out a laugh, said "Man, this is _not_ what I meant when I said you needed to bring a girl home." I glared at him as Sam moved towards the couch.

"What happened?" He asked. I crossed my arms and lowered my head.

"Hydra," I said. "They blew up the hospital."

"And her?" Sam gestured to the unconscious woman.

"She saved me."

The woman looked to be in her late 20s. She had honey colored curls and a freckled face. Her navy scrubs were in tatters and speckled with blood.

"What the hell are we gonna do, Steve?" Sam suddenly yelled, shocking me out of staring at her unconscious form. "I am _not_ helping you dump her body in our alley."

I lifted my shoulders and gestured at her. "Can't you fix her up? You had some med training from back in the day, right?" Sam groaned in frustration. He clamped his hands on the sides of his head.

"This isn't something I can just put a Band-Aid on, man!" Sam's voice was risen in fear.

"Boys," A familiar voice interrupted behind us. We whipped around. Somehow, but not surprisingly, Natasha Romanov had managed to sneak up behind us. She stood, arms crossed, by the open window she had crawled in through. I just now felt the cool breeze hit me.

"Relax, the doc's coming." She said as she reached down out the window to yank Bruce Banner into the apartment. He straightened himself and smoothed down his clothes.

"Hi," Dr. Banner said. I nodded at him, still slightly shocked that they were in my apartment. He made his way over to the couch and began ministering to the unconscious woman, pulling a stethoscope and bandages out of his med kit.

Nat gestured for us to head out of the room.

Sam was the first to speak."Okay, a million questions are coming for you, Romanov-"

"Steve, this is _not_ what I meant when I said you should get a girl." She said, not even bothering to cover her mouth to hide her laughter. Sam lifted up his fist for her to 'bump' as I learned they call it.

I crossed my arms. "People are dead, Natasha, and she could die, too."

"People die everyday, Rodgers." She shot back cooly, all trace of her laughter gone. "And besides, Banner's got this. She'll pull through."

"Well, do you mind telling me how the hell-"

"Language!" Sam coughed.

"-you knew that we needed medical aid?" I finished aggressively.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I was in the area. Saw you leave and head to the hospital. Knew you were gonna do something stupid. I followed you."

I narrowed my eyes. "And Dr. Banner just happened to be with you, huh?"

She glared me straight in the eyes and smiled a small smile, a slight blush creeping up on her cheeks. "Shut up, old man."


	4. Chapter 3: My Name is Earl

**Author's Note: Yay! Jesse and Steve finally meet in this chapter! Soon things should be getting good as I kinda know what I want to happen in the next few chapters. The next chapter should be up soon because I will be in holiday break. Again, please please pretty please leave a review, I absolutely adore them and I still only have gotten one. Thank you so much for reading and I hope that you enjoy!**

The four of us took turns taking up watch. Natasha had poked my cheek to wake me and I was now in our small kitchen, leaning against the fridge, and sipping on some chai. It was one thirty in the morning. Everything was still.

The woman- I hated calling her that, I want to call her by her name, I don't want her to be anonymous and faceless- was still lying on the couch. I moved towards her, part of me saying that I was creepy and no better than Coulson. I silently say down on the coffee table, my knees barely touching the couch. In the calm, I could now see her.

She looked to be in her twenties. Her honey colored curls spilled over the edge of the couch. What remained of her dark violet scrubs was folded up at her feet. She was in a black camisole, the rest of her was covered in blankets. I looked at her hands now. Her fingernails were unpainted and she wore two simple silver rings, one on each hand. Neither of them appeared to be a wedding ring. I was relieved. If we had to take her underground and off the grid with us, we wouldn't have to tell a spouse. This was safest.

Maybe it was simply from being knocked out, but I noticed goosebumps along her neck. Cold or not, I found myself uncomfortable with how bare she was. She might be, too, when she wakes up. I left my mug on the table and headed to my room. I rifled through my flannels until I found the most monstrous in size and returned to the living room.

She was sitting up on the couch, one arm extended to press against her forehead. I heard her release a small sound of a whimper. She hadn't noticed me yet. I shifted my weight to make the floorboards creak. The woman turned her head, her eyes instantly finding and locking onto mine.

Her skin was pale, but slightly sun kissed on her nose and tops of her cheekbones. Dotted along the bridge of her nose were dozens of tiny freckles. Her mouth was small, but her lips were relatively full and a deep rose color. She had thick brown eyebrows that were soft in comparison to her square jaw line. But her eyes are what got to me. They stopped me in my tracks and made my heart skip a beat then seemingly pause. They were big and round and the same warm honey color of her hair, yet brighter and more intense. They shone even in the low light of the side table's lamp. Her eyelashes were thick and long and the color of milk chocolate.

We just stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. She broke the silence first.

"Are you okay?" Her voice was soft and quiet, yet strong and sincere.

I nodded, a small smile on my face. She was almost killed, in a strange man's house all bruised up and bloody, and she was asking ME if I was okay. I walked over to the chair next to the couch and lifted my arm to hand her the flannel I fetched for her. She thanked me, put it on, and sat up further.

I spoke now. "How did you know there was a bomb?" She shrugged her shoulders.

"I smelled the gas and gunpowder, saw you down the hallway near a window and pushed you out of the building." She said it nonchalantly, like it was nothing.

"Well you saved my life," I said seriously.

"You saved mine." She said just as seriously. We fell back into a silence again, but it didn't feel awkward.

"What now?" She asked, saying it lightly. "I mean, shouldn't the F. B. I. be on to this?" She laughed now. "I'm surprised you don't have The Avengers knocking on your door, really."

I tried to act normal after that. I sometimes forget that not everyone in the universe recognizes us up close.

"Why do you trust me?" I turned on her.

"Because why would a guy that I kept from getting blown up bring me all the way across town, patch me up, give me more clothes to wear and THEN kill me?" She shot back.

I tilted my head in agreement.

I then told her the story Natasha had made up for me about what happened and why. I was an S. H. I. E. L. D. agent (which isn't too far from the truth) undercover to protect the ambassador's daughter. I had failed my mission and almost ended up in bits and pieces in a body bag. I had taken her back to my partner's (that would be Sam) house for safety. I was medically trained and fixed her up and waited for her to gain consciousness. I told her my name was Steven Ringly(I am awful at lying and hate it so Nat let me tell a half truth this time).

I felt so dirty lying to her, her big golden eyes taking in every word and believing them. Trusting me so quickly and easily.

"Can you show me some ID?"

I pulled the doctored badge out of my back pocket; it was from a few missions ago when I went by the same pseudonym. She inspected it closely and handed it back, satisfied.

"My name is Jessica. Harvelle." She said sticking out her hand for me to shake. I took it. Her hand was tiny, but it had some strength to them. And she was warm to the touch.

"Nice to meet you Ms," I said cordially. She held up her hand.

"I'm only 25, and besides: I think you helping me so much gives you he right to call me by my first name. May I do the same to you or is it-" She hunched up her shoulders and spoke in a deeper mock-serious voice. "-'Agent Ringly'?" I smiled and shook my head.

"Just 'Steven' works."

"Ever try going by Steve? Or would that confuse your co-workers with Mr. America?" She asked humorously.

"It's 'Captain'," I corrected under my breath. But she heard me.


	5. Chapter 4: Tea Time

**Author's Note: Hello, again, my lovely readers! If you celebrate a holiday around this time, I wish you happy holidays! I celebrate Christmas and I got an awesome Black Widow jacket from my mom, which inspired me to get back to my laptop and work some more on my story. Please feel free to leave a review, I really would love some constructive criticism or just a 'Hi!'. I was thinking it would be a fun little game for me to ask a non-personal question in each chapter's author's note. I was just thinking of them mainly being related to the Avengers, but it can be general things, too, I suppose. If you have any ideas for questions, letting me know in a message or review would be super duper. Here's my first question: (Who is your favorite Avenger and why?) Mine is Natasha, but Steve is a really close second. Natasha is my favorite for rather trivial reasons, to be honest. I think she is just really cool and inspiring and we both have curly hair, so. I really like Steve for how kind he is. I think that's a real superpower. As always, thank you so so very much for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

 _One week later…_

Things seemed to go back to usual. Except Sam and I had a new neighbor: Jesse. Well, Jesse and Chewbacca, her elderly beagle. Agent Hill helped her set up a new life in our apartment building, rooming with Natasha, in a flat across the hall from us. Jesse was a witness and a survivor. If Hydra knew she was still alive, she would be a target. We would be there in an instant if they took a hit out for her. Sam, Nat and I were to remain undercover for as long as Hill ordered us to be. Natasha would go by Natalie and Sam would go by Sal. We tucked our easily identifiable gear underneath our beds and acted as natural and relaxed as we could around her. We figured that it would be safest for Jesse to be with as many of us as possible at all times, so Nat and her were frequently over at our place. This was one of those times.

Chewbacca, or 'Chewie' and Jesse called him, was curled up on the carpet next to my feet. I was sipping some tea and making my way through the newspaper. Sam and Nat were at the kitchen table playing some cards and having some beers. I lifted my head as I heard Jesse's wool-socked feet pad up behind me. She sat down in the chair next to mine, her own cup of tea in her hands.

"He seems to really like you," She gestured at the beagle. "Chewie is a rescue, so he's a bit anxious around new people, but you-" Jesse took a sip of her tea. "He just likes you, that's all." She smiled up at me. I smiled back, sincerely.

I hated going undercover. I didn't like lying to people. I didn't like making connections with people only to get reassigned to someone else. But I felt like I didn't have to lie this mission. Jesse never asked probing questions, in fact, she never really asked questions about my life. She let me share what I wanted and she shared what she wanted. Which was a lot. She was very open, and it made me feel almost guilty that I couldn't be as open with her and she was with me.

I put my mug down and reached down to rub Chewie behind the ears. He thumped his tail on the floor.

"How're you, Jesse?" I asked.

"Alright," She said. "Considering my situation, I'm doing alright."

"Good." Silence fell between us, but it wasn't awkward, at least not on my end. A comfortable quiet.

Jesse broke the silence gently.

"How are you, Steven?" She repeated back to me. I dropped my head a bit and smiled a little.

"Alright," I said, and paused a bit to choose my next words carefully. "Considering your situation, I'm doing alright."

Jesse stared at me for a moment, then seemingly dunked her face into her mug, her curls, the color of sunshine, falling over her face. She drank a deep sip, giving her time to think.

"Look at you two," Natasha said behind me. In my perifial vision I could see her place her hands on the top of my chair and lean over me to get a good look at the paper I was reading. "Just give Jesse a walker and you'll look like something straight out of a nursing home."

I lightly swatted at Nat's hands and she walked back to the kitchen to restock her and Sam with snacks.

"How old _are_ you?" Jesse inquired. Darn it. What do I say?

"I'm 27." I said a little too quickly. "You?"

"28."

"Cool," I said not knowing what to say, as per usual.


	6. Chapter 5: Stairway to Heaven

**Author's Note: Hello! I hope this chapter finds you doing well. I would like to leave a little trigger warning in this note for this chapter: a very minor character, one that wasn't really developed, dies in this chapter. This chapter is rather centric around this death, however, the character died peacefully in his sleep and the 'sad' part is really just the other character's responses to the death. Hopefully this helps to prepare you for what's to come in this chapter, and I don't end up upsetting anyone. My little "question" for this chapter is 'What is your favorite Avengers/Marvel movie?' This is SUCH a hard question, but I think I'll have to go with the good ol' original 'The Avengers'. Captain America: The Winter Solider would be my second favorite tied with Age of Ultron. As always, please feel free to leave me a review! They brighten my day so much ^-^. I hope that you enjoy this chapter and thank you for reading!**

Over the next two weeks things stayed relatively the same in our little group. Everyday 'Natalie' would bring Jesse over and we would sip tea and make small talk. It was never boring, however. I got to learn something new about her every day. I learned that she is allergic to cats when we saw a kitty litter commercial on Tuesday; her favorite color is lavender, when Sam wore socks polka dotted with the color on Friday; her favorite song is 'Stairway to Heaven' when it came on the radio; her favorite movie is The Princess Bride when Nat offered the idea of a movie night on Wednesday. Everyday I found myself growing more and more interested in her and her story. I wanted to know everything about her, not in a creepy way, but in a 'can I be your friend' way. I wanted to know why she talked about Chewie like he was her child, why she would look away from the screen when Sarah McGloughlan comes on the tv, or why she carries a backpack with her instead of a purse.

I know that becoming her friend and remaining her friend after I was reassigned was against the rules. But was I truly breaking any bylaws? If Natasha and Bruce could date, couldn't I be friends with Jesse?

I was pondering all of this as I made my way down my floor's hallway. I had just gotten back from my morning run and I was heading back home to take a shower. I turned the corner and reached my door, but something stopped me from opening it. I put my keys back in my pocket. Over the metal clanging, I couldn't hear soft sobs echoing from Jesse and Nat's apartment. My mind flashed back to Nat telling me that she might be back from running errands with Sam and that I shouldn't go for my run, but instead stay with Jesse. Crap. I was told that last night when I was too tired to recall it when I woke up. Jesse was alone.

I knocked on her door. No response. I banged on the door. No response. I kept myself from kicking the door down when I remembered I had a key. I quickly unlocked and threw the door open.

"Jesse?!" I called, entering the apartment. I rushed through the kitchen, my eyes scanning for her. "It's Steve! Where are you?!"

The sobs paused and I heard a sniffling voice say, "Steven?"

Jesse's voice came from behind an ajar door in front of me. I rushed over to the door, threw it open, and looked around.

All I could see of Jesse was her mop of curls poured over her head and face. She was kneeling on the floor, her arms wrapped around something on the floor. Her body shook with sobs. I scanned the room. It looked to be her room, with a bed covered in overstuffed pillows and thick purple blankets, and a moving box overflowing with movie posters. The windows were closed, (no sign of a forced entry) and everything seemed to be a normal amount of messiness. She was physically safe, I surmised. But why is she on the ground crying?

I squatted down as Jesse turned her head up to look at me. Her curls fell back from her face, but one remained stuck to her cheek, wet with tears. Something came over me in that moment. I saw her big amber eyes wide and puffy from crying, her nose red and runny and her hair disheveled and loose. A sense of warmth spread through my chest, and I reached towards her to brush that curl out of her face. She took a deep shaking breath and broke down crying again, curling her arms tighter around whatever was on the floor before her.

"Chewie," She stuttered. She opened her arms and a fuzzy tail fell out. "He's-he's-" She stuttered, her whole body shaking slightly. My eyes widened and my mouth fell open a bit.

"I'm so sorry." I said solemnly. We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Her once bright brown eyes were darkened in sadness and they shown not with curiosity, but with tears. Her freckled nose was red and puffy. I felt myself leaning towards her, but I didn't stop myself. I sat down cross-legged and opened up my arms. She slumped up against me, her arms around my neck, her head on my chest and her knees against mine. I wrapped myself around her. She was so little; my arms were able to completely curl around her back. I gently squeezed her and he sobs grew softer.

I, too, knew what it felt like to lose my best friend. Bucky's scream as he fell from the train into the valley below echoed in my mind. I buried my face into Jesse's curls and for the first time since I woke up in the 21st century, I allowed myself to fully feel the pain. Loosing my mother when I was young, being scoffed at for my Irish blood, my religion, or my height, the endless doctor's appointments, being turned down every time I attempted to enlist, the physical pain of the super-solider serum injection, loosing Bucky, loosing Peggy, loosing myself, my home, my time when I crashed into the water, waking up in a different time, being lost, being alone. My chest shook and Jesse squeezed me back, holding me, keeping me from being alone.

We sat like that for what felt like hours. Soon, my t-shirt was dried from Jesse's tears and her curls were dry and fluffy after my own tears had dissipated.

"I want to bury him." Jesse whispered. I nodded my head, still holding her, refusing to let go of her warmth and comfort.

After Chewie's small service, everyone was in a different spirit. Natasha had tried to get Jesse to the local pound to try and get her back in the saddle of a new dog. Jesse couldn't bring herself to leave her apartment. Sam and I spent our free time half heartedly playing board games and Mario Kart.

A month went by, and Jesse still stayed cooped up in her room. A month went by, and I was now finishing my drawing of Jesse with Chewie. I had hoped it would be a happy reminder of him. Sam had let me borrow his guitar and taught me a few chords. I only knew how to play one song, barely, but that was all I needed to know.

On a dreary Sunday morning, I took Sam's guitar and my drawing, dressed in my crispest button down and kakis, and walked across the hallway and knocked on the door. Natasha opened it.

"What the hell are you doing, Rodgers?" She asked eyeing the guitar and my clothes. I ignored her.

"Can you get Jesse for me?" I asked.

"She won't want to come out, you know." Nat replied.

"She'll come out." I said, sure of myself. Natasha lifted a brow. And stepped out of the door way and walked back into the apartment, leaving the door open.

I took a deep breath and began plucking the opening notes of the song.

"There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold," I sang softly. Nat put her hand around her ear and mouthed 'louder'. I glared at her.

"And she's buying a stairway to heaven." I sang clear and loud now. I took a step into the apartment and made my way slowly to Jesse's bedroom door.

"There's a sign on the wall, but she wants to be sure," I heard the creak of bedsprings and the soft footsteps coming from behind the door.

" 'Cuz you know sometimes words have two meanings." The door opened. Jesse peered at me, a small smile growing on her face.

"You missed some lines, you know."


	7. Chapter 6: The One Where Steve Blushes

**Author's Note: Hi! How are you doing? So I saw Star Wars four times and that kinda emotionally traumatized me (because it was so awesome), so I wasn't really in the writing mood because all I could think about was Star Wars. And then I saw the Civil War trailer again and now I'm feeling the feels and back into my story. I'm sorry for killing off Chewie, but I needed to fridge him to bring Steve and Jesse together. This chapter's question is "What other fandoms are you in, besides the Avengers?" I love Firefly, Supernatural, Doctor Who, Sherlock, Game of Thrones, Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, and others, but those are the big ones. I'm thinking of writing some Supernatural fan fiction, maybe when this story is done. Let me know if you think that would be a good idea or not. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Please leave a review telling me what you think. As always, thank you so much for reading!**

"You missed some lines, you know."

Jesse's eyes were tinged pink and slightly bloodshot, her hair a mess and her baggy sweatpants and oversized tee shirt only emphasized her weight loss. But the way her eyes squinted as she smiled made her shine like a sunrise.

I reached my hand out to Jesse. After a moment of her staring at it, then back at me, she took it.

"Where are we going?" She asked.

"Somewhere happy."

` "And where is that?"

"It's secret."

"May I go in my pjs?"

"Yes, actually."

We had now reached her front door, and I returned Natasha's happy, but incredulous, look with a grin. I took Jesse's hand a little tighter in mine and guided her across the corridor and into my apartment, pulling the door open for her.

Sam was sitting on the couch, his feet casually up on the coffee table. He looked up from his phone at us when we entered, and pulled out his ear stereos, and the now familiar sound of Marvin Gaye's voice floated in the air of the apartment. Sam tucked his legs under the table and leaned forward to take his guitar back, his only sign of an emotional or opinionated response was a slight smile, in the smug side. "Told ya it would work," it said. The solitary sound of the rain returned after Sam, having gotten what he was looking for from me, went back to his music.

I turned back to Jesse, who looked up at me with expectantly.

"Close your eyes," I asked her. She obliged, but only after giving me a slightly suspicious look. She gripped my hand a bit tighter and followed my lead. I maneuvered her around the couch and towards my room. I swung open the door and pulled her in.

"You can open your eyes now,"

My room was as it always is: Neat and tidy. Sam told me once when he was drunk, while I remained regrettably sober, he thought it was cruelly unfair for him to bring girls to his messy room, when my clean room has never been seen by a female gaze. Until now, I guess, but this was not that kind of visit.

The only oddity in my room was the easel. That's usually folded up in my closet along with the rest of my art supplies. But now it stood at the foot of my bed, displaying my latest drawing. Lavender blossoms sat in a bowl at the foot of the easel.

"I thought you might like-" My voice was caught in my throat by the surprising force of Jesses's little, compared to mine, at least, arms wrapping around my midsection and squeezing me tightly.

I turned in an awkward attempt to return her hug. Her hair was frazzled, but soft under my hand. Her head fit perfectly under my chin and she pressed her cheek against my chest. I could feel the edge of her lips brush against the skin over my heart through my shirt and a lighting bolt shot through me. I shook my head slightly to brush all thoughts of Jesse (that way out) of my head.

"Thank you," She whispered. I meant to hug her a bit tighter, just to feel her warmth and weight against me for a second more, but she pulled away to admire the sketch.

"This is amazing, Steven!" She turned to smile back at me, but her eyes were watery with emotion. "I didn't know you were so talented."

I blushed. Why was I blushing. Pull it together, solider.

"Thank you, Jesse."


	8. Chapter 7: Shots Fired

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello, lovelies! So I haven't been able to update in so long since I was a camp counselor all summer. We don't get very good wifi in the middle of the woods. And now that I'm taking a lighter load in college, I can write more! Yay! I saw Civil War. It was beautiful and I cried twice and I'm a wreck, but still, my sweet child Steve needs his story to be continued. I worked a bit harder on this chapter and made it a bit longer than usual to try and improve my fic, so please, please, please leave me a review, even if you hate it. This chapter's question is "If you could have dinner with any of the Avengers/Marvel characters/any character really, who would you have dinner with?" For the Avengers, I wouldn't pick Steve as not to make my boyfriend insanely jealous. So I would have to say Natasha. I would like her to tell me her stories about spying and all that cool stuff. In regards to Marvel characters in general, I would say Deadpool, but my boyfriend would get insanely jealous of ME, so I would say Professor X. I always have found him rather inspirational how he overcame his disability and made his abilities shine through to help people. Also, he could tell me what the other people in the restaurant are thinking and we could have some laughs. In terms of any character, I would have to say Dean Winchester. I would use that time to help encourage him to ask Castiel out, but that's a whole other fic to be written. We could also discuss music and monsters and it would be great. So let me know in the review section what you thought about this chapter, answer the question, if you feel so inclined and stay tuned for the next one! I hope to be posting once a week. On Fridays I don't have any classes, so I hope to be able to sit down and write a ton. Please enjoy!**

 **-Emily :)**

-CHAPTER SEVEN-

Shots Fired

I couldn't sleep. I shouldn't be complaining since I haven't had nearly as much trouble at night these past few months. But still, I dreaded the thought of getting into bed. The silence. The solitude. The chill that creeps in from inactivity. It was too familiar and not in the best way.

I rolled over to my side. I needed to stop staring at the ceiling. Instead, I stared at the little plant Jesse gave me. She had a spider plant, she said it was called, growing in her room. It had little saplings growing off of it. From these 'babies' (again, according to Jesse), this little guy came to be. She put it in an old thrifted pot and gave it to me. The pot was completely bare terra cotta and I was itching to paint it. I wanted to fix the sliver of a crack that ran through the side of the pot first.

I was thinking about nothing, but everything all at once. Until out of the corner of my eye, I saw a change in the light on the fire steps. If someone were to ask me what the difference between a S.H.E.I.L.D. agent and a civilian is, I would use this as an example. A normal person would have assumed it was a bird or leaf that flew by. A S.H.E.I.L.D. agent, me, would sense danger.

I waited and listened and stared outside through the sliding glass doors. The shadow passed by again and I could hear a nearly silent thud sound. It was like the soft sound of a cat landing ever so gracefully. Something was most certainly going on.

I slid out of bed and tossed the sheets away in silence, squatted down and pulled my shield out from it's hiding spot under the head of my bed. Now I could hear them, the cat burglar. They were creeping across the fire escape above the one that was out of my apartment.

My mind raced, thinking of what to do. I couldn't call the police, they unfortunately would take too long and Fury refuses to trust them. I couldn't call in S.H.E.I.L.D. for something that was probably just a midnight robbery. And that would completely blow Nat, Sam and I's cover that we worked so hard to maintain. And I had a stake in this cover. I liked being 'Steven'. I liked not being sent on dangerous missions far away, only ordered to keep training and help with intel. I liked having a real friend. I haven't had that in anyone but Bucky.

I would handle it alone.

The footsteps were silent from above for a moment, then I heard another soft thud and a metallic clink. It came from the roof this time. Why would they be scaling the roof? Nobody lived on the top floor above us. No one to steal from.

I heard nothing for a good minute or so. I slid the shield onto my arm and shivered as the cold metal touched my bare arms and torso. My flannel pants were the only thing from keeping me from attacking the bandit butt naked. I creeped outside of my room and into the living area. Suddenly my stomach dropped. What if they were on the roof to cross over to the other side of the apartment building. The side that Jesse was sleeping in. My heart started to race and I felt fear cover me like a cloak. I quickly stalked over to the front door and I pressed my ear next to the wood.

When the scream of fear reached my ears, I threw the door open, only for the cry for help to be immediately muffled. Oh God. I crossed the hallway in one stride and kicked the front door in with a strong kick. I heard two gunshots, from two different guns. Natasha must have reacted quicker than I could. I lifted my shield towards the sound of the gunfire and ran towards it.

"Steve!" Nat yelled as she tumbled over the couch and landed next to me and curled behind my shield with me. We pressed our backs to the couch and she held her handgun in front of her nose, ready to aim at any second.

"What's going on?" I demanded.

"It's him, it's him." She stammered. I had never heard her sound or look scared before. "I saw him, the Winter Solider."

Her eyes darkened in fear, like an animal trapped and ready to bite back.

"Steve-" She started but I was already vaulting over the couch at the sound of a second scream and objects falling. It was coming from Jesse's bedroom. I kicked that door open, my shield at the ready. I could sense that Natasha was right behind me, her gun aimed inside.

What I saw when I peered past my shield was something out of a twisted nightmare. Worse than the one's that I had after I was defrosted. Jesse's room was in chaos. Her once tranquil room of creams and greenery was in shambles. Her houseplants were spilled onto the ground along with their soil and shattered pots. In the middle of it all was Jesse.

Now I had been thinking about how wonderful it was when I had those few chances to hold her. How warm she was and how safe she made me feel. This is why the sight of the man-no-creature before me, standing behind Jesse, one metal arm wrapped tightly around her, his other holding a gun to her curls.

"Drop it," Natasha said cooly. The Solider only cocked his head to the side in what appeared to be amusement. All I could do was stare at Jesse. She was staring back at me. Her eyes were filled with fear and anger and surprise and confusion. She met my gaze and I nodded to her. I tried to mentally tell her that Natasha and I would protect her and keep her safe. I tried to soothe her with my eyes.

Quick as lightning, the Solider whipped his gun around and fired twice at us. I heard a moan of pain and assumed Natasha had been shot, when I looked up, however, I saw Jesse kicking the Solider down and tackling him. Natasha kicked his gun away and aimed her's at his head. I grabbed Jesse and pulled her away from him, but it was too late. His combat knife had come out and Jesse was the target. I saw a splatter of red. Everything seemed to go in slow motion. I heard someone scream. Nat was on the Solider, taking his knife and pinning him down with her knees.

"Call an ambulance, Steve, this one is mine." Natasha growled.


	9. Chapter 8: Hospitals and Hardly-Happy

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello! It's Emily back at it again with another chapter! It's very short, as I desperately wanted to post something before I ran off to work. Have you all seen the trailer/thing for Thor 3? I actually haven't yet. I'm saving it for a day when I'm sad since Thor is a bundle of blonde burly joy. So last chapter introduced the Winter Solider. I hope to really delve deep into Bucky and Steve's relationship. I want to make you cry and ruin your life. So today's question is… "Do you ship Stucky?" I actually don't. It's probably my number one brotp next to Sam and Dean Winchester. So, without further ado, here is chapter eight! I hope you enjoy, and please leave me a review!**

 **-Emily :)**

-Chapter Eight-

Hospitals and Hardly-Happy Memories

The S.H.E.I.L.D hospital room was beige. From the paint on the walls, to the cold sterile tile flooring, to the bedsheets, to the woman laying in them. Her face was beige and blanched and her once warm honey hair was straw-like.

The events of the past twenty-four hours were blurred together into one garbled mess of an awful dream. Natasha was always able to keep a clear head so she was able to fill me in on the parts my brain decided to forget.

I closed my eyes. The memories, either taught to me from Nat, or vividly imprinted in my mind, flashed behind my eyelids. The Winter Solider. Jesse tackling him. The knife. The scream. Natasha holding the Solider down and ordering me to call an ambulance. Carrying Jesse away. Placing her on the couch in my apartment. Sam urgently telling the operator we needed a medic. Grabbing a towel from the kitchen and pressing it onto the wound. The blood on my hands. How white her face was growing by the second. How she made no sound, other than gasping for air and attempting to speak. Telling her, demanding her, to keep her eyes open and that help was coming and that everything would be okay. Repeating that over and over again, until she slipped out of consciousness. Sam running down the hallway to direct the medics. Jesse being lifted onto the gurney. How much my gut demanded that I follow along and go with, but Sam held me back, and rightfully so. Sam explaining that they would need all the room they could get in the back of the ambulance and I would only get in the way.

I couldn't remember the drive to the hospital. But I was here now. And miraculously the doctors let Nat, Sam and I in. In surgery, her doctor, Cho, determined that nothing more than muscle was damaged. It was just the way the blade was jagged made the wound bleed more and appear much worse. It was only her shoulder that was caught, not her chest. Two or three inches lower and she would be dead.

Dr. Cho said Jesse should gain consciousness within the next six to twelve hours and that she should make a full recovery with little more than a scar and a weak shoulder.

"So now we wait?" I asked her. She nodded.

"She won't be doing much for the next four hours minimum," She gave me a jokingly sidelong glance. "That gives you more than enough time to go home and get a proper shirt."

Nat snorted quietly.

I insisted on going straight to the hospital, as I wanted to tail the ambulance. I arrived shirtless and barefooted. A kind-hearted nurse took pity on me and gave me some socks and a gown. I was shivering, both from the cold and from the adrenaline.


End file.
